by Jewel E. Ann
My chest heaved and adrenaline coursed through my veins, but he still said nothing. I was done, we were done. As I reached the door, I heard the faint sound of his voice.
“I didn’t sleep with them.”
Certain that I hadn’t heard him correctly, I turned around. “What did you say?’
Shoulders slumped, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, he captured my full attention. Dark watery eyes filled with … worry? Remorse?
“Those women, I didn’t sleep … I didn’t fuck any of them.”
“Bullshit! I was here, I saw you—”
“You saw what I wanted you to see. There was no sex. I slept in the chair by the window, and they slept in the bed. Then in the morning I … compensated them for their time.”
Nothing made sense. My mind was a jumbled mess from his admission. I rubbed my temples trying to ease the tension in my head. “Let me get this straight. You paid those women to not sleep with you?”
He nodded.
I walked back toward him because I needed to look into his eyes. “Why?”
Taking a deep swallow, his dark eyes met my blues. “I wanted you to feel how much I was hurting.”
How did I miss it? Lost in the desert, all I focused on was a mirage of anger and contempt. Had I been able to see past the illusion, I would have found Quinn sinking into a dark hole of pain. I was his pain. The realization was crushing.
I reached for his face and he closed his eyes at my touch. “My God, what have I done to you?” Tears filled my eyes and I ran to the door. I had to get away from him. The shame of the pain I caused him was suffocating.
As I reached for the door handle, his hand grabbed my arm and spun me around. “Where are you going?” he asked in confusion.
The emotions overflowed. “I can’t take your pain away,” I cried.
He leaned down and held my face in his hands as he rested his forehead to mine. “You’re the only one who can take it away.”
The feel of his lips kissing away my tears was like a ray of sunshine in the depths of Hell. Scooping me into his arms, he carried me upstairs to his bathroom. He set me down and turned on the water to fill the bathtub. When he turned back to me, I grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer. As I worked the buttons of his shirt, he brushed my hair back off my shoulders.
“Do you love him?”
Pausing, I stared at the button between my fingers for a brief moment. Then shaking my head, I continued.
“But you slept with him?”
I pushed his shirt off his shoulders and feathered my fingers over his bruised abdomen. “Yes.”
“Why?” His voice was steady and calm despite the answers that had to sting.
“To take my mind off you.” I leaned in and pressed my lips to the middle of his chest then proceeded to unfasten his pants. As they dropped to the floor, he pulled my shirt over my head. I unbuttoned my jeans as he unclasped my bra. When it fell from my breasts, he brushed the pads of his thumbs over the swell of them with appreciation and desire gleaming in his eyes. Reaching over, he turned off the water then kneeled down to ease my jeans and panties over my hips and down my legs. Holding his hand, I stepped out of them and into the tub of soothingly warm water. He followed me and sat down in the water before I sank down and positioned myself between his legs with my back to his chest. After grabbing a sponge, he dunked it in the water then squeezed it out over my shoulders and chest.
“Did it work?” he asked.
While I grazed my nails up and down his legs, I tried to figure out what he meant. “Did what work?”
“Did he take your mind off me?”
I sat up and turned around to face him, kneeling between his spread legs. Taking the sponge from him, I started blotting the dried blood from his face. “No.”
“If I wouldn’t have stopped you, were you going to sleep with him tonight?”
Keeping my eyes focused on his cuts, I smiled. “No.” Then I looked into his eyes. “And I wouldn’t have had to pay him to not sleep with me.”
He dug his fingers into my sides making me squirm. “Do you think that’s funny?”
Splashing water over the sides of the tub, I tried to wriggle out of his grasp. “Stop!” I squealed.
“Then stop laughing at me.”
“I wasn’t laughing, I was simply smiling.”
“And what exactly were you smiling about?” He raised his eyebrow at me.
Leaning forward, I wrapped my hand around his firm length then kissed his jaw, the corner of his eye, and every other place he had a bruise or cut. “I was smiling because after two grueling weeks I finally have you exactly where I want you.”
“And where might that be?”
Moving my legs to straddle his, I lowered myself onto him, closing my eyes with the intensity of the fullness. “Right … here.”
His head fell back as he sucked in a tight breath through his teeth. I reached back and flipped the drain. As the water level descended, I began to move up and down on him. He sat up and pulled me closer until his mouth captured my breast. My nipple hardened under the caress of his expert tongue. The head of his cock pressed against a bundle of nerves building the most exquisite climax. As I arched my back, I fisted his hair, pressing him harder into my breast.
“Oh God, Quinn, I’m so close,” I whimpered on the verge of ecstasy.
Grabbing my hips, he guided me. The added force plunged the head of his erection so deep I exploded around him. He continued to move me on him, prolonging my orgasm as he climaxed filling me with his warmth. “God! You feel … so … fucking … amazing,” he panted into my chest as I released his hair from my fists and kissed his head in breathless exhaustion.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
After our bath Quinn wrapped me up in his robe and put on some flannel pajama pants. He sat on the bed and let me rub arnica oil onto his cuts and bruises, then he rubbed a little around my eye.
“We look like hell.” I laughed.
“Thanks to your attack dog.”
“Yeah, well he didn’t exactly leave unscathed either.” I shifted my gaze to his as he finished with my eye.
“He’s lucky he didn’t leave on a stretcher.”
“He thought the same about you.”
“If I would have left on a stretcher, then he would have left in a body bag.”
“Quinn!”
“I’m just saying––” He lay down on the bed and spooned me.
“I wouldn’t be here with you if it weren’t for him.”
“Oh, so now he’s a hero?”
“I’m right though, aren’t I?” I turned my head back to see his face.
“I’m hungry. Do you want some popcorn?”
“Quinn! Are you really going to ignore my question?”
He sat up and brushed my lips with his finger. “Don’t ruin the moment. Okay?” Then he walked out.
*
A while later, he came back upstairs with a big bowl of popcorn, a glass of red wine, and a rocks glass filled with something clear.
I furrowed my brow at him as he handed me the wine.
“I thought you liked Merlot?” he said casually.
“I do, sometimes, but I don’t want any tonight.”
He grabbed it from me and set in on the nightstand. “Suit yourself.”
Sitting next to me on the bed, he took a sip.
“What are you having?”
“Vodka tonic.”
“Why?”
“Just to take the edge off.” He shrugged his shoulders as he turned on the TV.
“Uh … I thought what we just did in the bathtub took the edge off.”
Turning toward me, he leaned in and kissed me. “It’s just a drink. Don’t make it into something it’s not.”
“Don’t do this,” I whispered.
He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Do what?”
“Don’t dismiss everything I say because you don’t want to ruin the moment, and don’t downpl
ay your drinking problem.”
“Drinking problem? Who said I have a drinking problem?”
“Are you kidding me? I don’t expect you to magically cure yourself overnight, but you cannot be so blind as to not see that you have a drinking problem.”
“Jesus, Addy! As I recall you had your fair share of wine that night we stayed at Mac and Evan’s. The night you tried to have your drunken way with me but decided to masturbate after I said no. Does that mean you have a drinking problem?”
“Oh my God! Are you trying to compare your chronic binge drinking to one night that I had a few too many glasses of wine?”
He got out of bed and went downstairs without another word. A few minutes later I followed him only to find him refilling his glass with straight vodka.
In a much calmer voice, I tried a different approach. “I don’t want to fight about this. I just want to help you.”
“If you want to help me, then you’ll stop treating me like a fucking alcoholic.”
“Quinn, you were drunk at you mother’s funeral.”
“Yeah, my mother died. If ever there were a time to justify numbing the pain, wouldn’t that qualify?”
“She wasn’t just your mother, yet Chase and Alexis managed to make it through without stockpiling flasks in their suit coat or purse.”
“Not everyone deals with grief the same way.” He finished his glass with several quick gulps then poured another.
We were getting nowhere and staying with an agitated drunk didn’t seem like a good idea, so I went back upstairs and got dressed. When I came down he was sitting on the couch watching television with his liquid comfort.
“Goodnight,” I said just loud enough that I knew he heard me. When he didn’t respond, I fought the urge to say more and walked out the door.
*
Journal Day 91
Grateful that the words of The Serenity Prayer helped me sleep.
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
The courage to change the things I can,
And wisdom to know the difference.
Without question, I was smart, but wisdom was a gift only granted by time. Sometimes I had trouble distinguishing which things in life I could change and which things I could not change. Quinn’s behavior was one of those things.
My delusional thoughts about getting Quinn back and then helping him sober up weighed heavily on my mind. He had such contempt for his father because of his cowardly escape from reality through liquor. It was a monumentally incorrect assumption on my part that Quinn would see he was doing the same thing. In truth, I owed him nothing. But my guilty heart could not be convinced otherwise. There was no denying that I felt partially responsible for his problem. After all, he started drinking to cope with the physical and emotional pain he suffered after the climbing accident that had everything to do with me. Then the death of Elena exacerbated the problem, and part of me would forever question my decision to keep her secret from him. It might not have changed his drinking problem, but not knowing for sure made it hard for me to dismiss.
Admiring my shiner in the mirror early Saturday morning, I made a mental note of the things I needed to do that day. At the top of the list was checking on Quinn. Imagining how much he continued to drink after I left made my own stomach uneasy. Finding my way through the disaster, I didn’t relish the thought of cleaning up the mess from the epic fight. Explaining it to the Grants wasn’t going to be easy either. When I opened the door, I was startled by the unexpectedness of someone standing right there.
“Quinn,” I breathed out in surprise.
He leaned down and kissed me without so much as a word, then he brushed his lips over my black eye. “I’m sorry about the way I reacted last night. It was just a lot to take in and I wanted you to trust me, but I went about it all wrong. Can you forgive me?”
He looked irresistible in his black long-sleeved T-shirt and faded jeans. His narrowed eyes pleaded for forgiveness, which was almost impossible to deny as they were framed with cuts and bruises from the previous day’s altercation. However, nothing he said sounded like an admission or acknowledgement of his drinking problem.
“What do you mean by trust you?” I questioned.
He pulled me into his body, and I willingly accepted his embrace as I rested the side of my face on his chest. “I want you to trust me when I say I don’t have a drinking problem.” My body tensed and just as I started to say something he continued, “And, just to prove it to you I’m going to stop drinking for a while. Then you’ll see I’m in complete control, and we’ll no longer have this trust issue.”
Quinn had nothing to prove to me. He was an alcoholic, and I knew it. However, since he was willing to make an effort, I couldn’t say no. The lesson to be learned was his, not mine.
“Okay, but only if you fly to Chicago with me for Thanksgiving.”
He squeezed me tighter. “Deal. We’ll leave Wednesday afternoon.”
“No, we’ll leave tomorrow,” I replied with a matter-of-fact confidence.
He pulled back to look at me. “Tomorrow is Sunday. I have work on Monday.”
“Well, reschedule your meetings or call in sick. Do whatever you have to do. This is only going to work if there is some sort of accountability.”
“You don’t trust me to go to work and not drink?” He pulled back holding me at arms distance with a raised brow.
“Quinn, the whole point is to gain my trust. So I’m sorry, but I don’t trust you to go to your office, where I know you have alcohol to offer your business associates, and abstain from drinking.”
The firm look on his face conveyed some unspoken anger, but he said nothing. I slipped my hands up the back of his shirt and pulled him closer. “I’m not asking for the world, which you said you’d give me anyway. I’m just asking for this week.”
Lacing his fingers through my hair, he pulled me to his lips. Our tongues united in a deep kiss as I exhaled a soft hum of satisfaction. With gentle restraint, I pressed my nails into his muscular back as my body heated from his touch. As my pulse started to accelerate, he broke our kiss.
“One week?” he confirmed.
I smiled with a nod.
*
We spent the rest of the morning cleaning up the Grants’ condo. The final damage assessment bill would come later when they returned in the spring. After moving all my stuff back to Quinn’s, we made lunch and rested on the couch.
“Will it just be the four of us for Thanksgiving?” he asked.
“Actually, Mac’s parents will be joining us too.” Quinn hadn’t met Gwen and Richard. In fact, they didn’t know much at all about Quinn, including how long we’d been together, our engagement, his accident, and the breakup.
“Are they okay with meeting me? After all, you were their daughter-in-law, and I’m sure in their minds no other man will ever live up to their son.”
I moved over and straddled his lap, massaging his shoulders. “They’ll be fine, it’s just …”
His hands moved to my feet and rubbed my insteps with firm pressure. “It’s just what?”
“They don’t really know that much about us.” I wrinkled my nose and bit my lower lip.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, they don’t know how long I’ve been seeing you or that we were engaged.”
He sucked his top lip in and worked it between his teeth for a moment. “I see. So what do they know about us?”
“Not a lot.”
“Not a lot, or not anything?”
“Well, they know I’m planning on bringing you to Thanksgiving dinner and that we’re kind of close.”
“Kind of close, huh? Like how close?” He moved his hands up the inside of my shirt and cupped my breasts as his thumbs pushed their way under my bra to circle my nipples. “Like … this close?”
Biting my lower lip, I briefly closed my eyes. “Maybe,” I breathed out.
He pulled off my shirt and removed my bra then captured
one of my breasts in his mouth while his hand massaged the other bringing my nipples to firm pebbles. “Like this close?” he murmured over my breast.
In no time my panties were drenched as my body melted under his touch. “Possibly,” I said between labored breaths.
He flipped me over so I was lying on the couch. Then he shrugged off his shirt with a slow, sexy motion. I could tell by his cocky grin he was acutely aware of just how much I loved seeing his naked, muscled torso. He grabbed my pants at the hips and pulled them off. Then his face moved between my legs and he inhaled my scent sending a jolt of sensation to my sex. It was so intense my pelvis jerked toward him. He hummed in appreciation as he hooked his finger around my panties and moved them to the side. “Like this close?”
His tongue grazed through my slit and over my clitoris. “Yes,” I whimpered, “I mean no … I mean …” Two of his fingers slid into my channel as his tongue continued to circle my clit, “Oh God!” I moaned. I’d lost all ability to think, and he took advantage of the situation.
He pushed off of the couch and stood up. I drank in the sight of him unfastening his jeans and sliding them off with his briefs. He crawled over me again and attacked my mouth as he sank into me. Our fingers interlaced over my head, and I wrapped my legs around him as he plunged into me. His firm chest rubbed against my nipples while I tried to angle my hips. Finding just the right spot, he grazed my clit with each thrust until I shattered around him. Then he released into me with a final thrust and a vibrating moan escaping from his chest.
“Like this close?” he whispered into my ear as he released my hands.
“Definitely not this close.” I breathlessly laughed.
*